Tickets
by Tekno Danish
Summary: what happens when you lose your ticket to the future? rem attempts to explain to knives. written due to sudden burst of inspiration, so insanity roams freely within. R/R! vash plushie would love you forever.


I was in a strange mood when I wrote this. Took about three hours; shortest time ever, for me. Now, if this gets terribly confusing, lemme clarify a bit right now. This is basically rem talking to knives about redeeming himself, after the series, via the use of "a new ticket". *runs in circles* kinda overused subject matter, I know, but I had to do it! *cries* 

And another note: intentionally, I didn't use any names until around the end. Sorry if that's even more confusing, but I thought it might make it a bit more interesting. ^^;; 

Reviews appreciated, as always; same goes with helpful (and I stress that word) criticism. 

**Tickets**

It was somewhere he'd never been before. Someplace strange, unreal. A blue sky stretched above him, seemingly endless; bluer than he'd ever seen in his life. The surface he rested on (for he had, inevitably, been in a sitting position) was hard and strangely smooth; couldn't be sand. Sand didn't feel like this, unless it had been melted into glass. 

Glass… in peaked curiosity, he looked down. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and he gasped unintentionally, startled. His reflection held the same look of disbelief. His reflection, strangely clad in nothing but a plain, white shirt and a pair of jeans. Where was his white suit? He had never worn such clothes in his life. They were human clothing. Filthy, disgusting. He felt utterly exposed. Who had managed to put these on him? What filthy creature had _dared_…

The answer to his mind's unspoken question came in the form of a petal. Bright and red, it brushed against his cheek and landed comfortably in his hand, having been pushed there by some strange wind unfelt by him. He stared at the tiny object in his hand, resisting the urge to crush it in the anger that was building inside him. This petal… it was unmistakable. It was the petal _she_ loved, he recalled without much effort. How could he ever forget this petal? It was something easily associated with that woman, the same woman who had corrupted his poor, simple brother. 

Another petal trailed its way toward him, fluttering in on that same wind as it landed squarely in his lap. In rising frustration, all he could do was stare at the offending object, until another one drifted toward him, this time landing on his broad shoulder. Another landed beside him, as even more continued to fly past him, about him, around him. They all traveled about on that same wind, the wind that he couldn't feel but that he knew was there. 

And then something different came in on that wind. Something faintly familiar in the back of his mind, but also something he couldn't quite place. He stopped his hateful gazing at the red petals around him and strained his ears, listening intently. A voice? No. Not a voice. His face abruptly wrinkled with hatred as recognition filled his mind. Not just a voice. 

_Her_ voice.

Singing. That's what she always did. That woman was always singing; always that same song. He cringed, bringing a hand to tangle in his platinum blonde hair in his sudden frustration. The detached voice continued to sing, verse after verse. That same song he'd heard nearly every day of his childhood. If he'd had the will to do so, he could have sung every verse along with her voice, having had it stored up and memorized from long ago. But an act such as that would make him like her, something he dreaded and hated everyday of his life. He hated her, hated that song. 

Did she realize that that song haunted him? 

Abruptly, the singing stopped. His hands dropped to his sides with relief; he hadn't been aware that his hands had gone to his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound of her voice. However, he nearly jumped, startled, as a new sounds met his ears. One he also recognized, but with more contempt than even the song. 

Laughter. Laughing at him? Laughing because she was simply happy? Simply because she had the ability to do so? He didn't know, and it caused him only to become increasingly furious. 

Something was different about this voice, however. No longer did it sound detached, as if it were floating about and around him. No, this time it was more solid. Like it was being projected from a certain place. A certain person. 

Behind him. 

Almost with a kind of fear he rarely experienced, he leapt to his feet and spun on his heel to face the voice—no, to face _her_. Had she been standing behind him like that the entire time? Smiling and laughing, as if there was nothing wrong in the world? Again she laughed, brushing a few loose strands of black hair behind an ear. The petals that had once flown so fervently around the blond now changed their direction, to spin about her in a seemingly joyful dance. The blond man scowled. 

"Isn't it wonderful?" she asked him suddenly, catching him off guard. "I'm so excited!" 

He glowered darkly at her, resting his hands on his hips in a pompous manner. "Nothing you say could ever be wonderful," he remarked snidely, hoping to crush the woman's spirits with that one sentence. Her smile stayed the same, however, never wavering. 

"But how could it not be wonderful?" Again she questioned him, unfaltering. "How could you not be happy knowing that the ticket handed to you at birth is blank?" 

"Wonderful? Happy?" he responded, raising his chin indignantly. "Tickets with no destinations, that's all they are. Without a destination, you're nothing but lost." 

"A ticket with only one destination is dull," she told him, almost sternly this time. "With my blank ticket, I can choose anywhere I want to go. I have so many destinations!" She clapped her hands together happily, laughing giddily. The petals around her seemed to increase their speed, seemingly happy as well. 

Why was he standing here, arguing with a human about things that didn't even matter? Why was he arguing with a woman that was supposed to be dead? Why this woman…?! 

"Stop preaching to me!" he suddenly commanded, and the petals briefly faltered in their dance with the invisible wind. "I'm no child, I never was a child!" 

Though her smile faded slightly, her eyes continued dancing with her inner joy. She grinned genuinely at him. "You're right," she agreed. "You're not… You're a baby. A big, selfish baby who wants attention that no one will give willingly. You're no child, but you're no adult, either." 

Fury reached its peak inside him, causing his face to go a shade of red. A _baby_?! How petty! That woman…! Without further thought, he strode toward her, his large hand immediately reaching for the woman's thin throat. Roughly, he squeezed her neck briefly, then loosened his grip. 

"I could easily kill you," he growled, his voice barely over a rough whisper. "With one, good squeeze, I could kill you!" 

And yet, she continued to smile at him. Even as his grip tightened, she continued to smile, despite the pain and fear he knew she was feeling. It only infuriated him more. She was so close to losing her life. He wanted her to beg, to plead as all the other humans did. He wanted her to cry out in pain, and beg him to stop hurting her, to stop killing her. And yet she smiled. 

Frustrated, he let go, and backed away. A red mark stood out like a bright necklace on her thin neck. It would soon become a noticeable bruise. She was out of breath, breathing heavily, but still smiling. And her eyes danced with a sudden realization. 

"You've lost your ticket, haven't you?" she almost cooed playfully. His eyes widened, his fists clenched. 

"What…?" 

Her smile fading around the edges, slightly, she shook her head. "You've lost your ticket somewhere along the way, haven't you? The blank ticket handed to you at birth…" 

He stared at the woman in disbelief. He had tried to kill her, and still she preached to him with her stupid metaphors! How foolish she was, how tiresome this all was. How…! 

What did she mean? 

As if reading his sudden change in thought, she responded quickly with a sincere smile. "Somewhere along the track, your train came to a halt, and you decided to get off instead of see where your ticket might take you.  You allowed your ticket to expire, didn't you? That blank ticket is no more use to you." 

More metaphors. Why was she telling him all this?! 

"So you're stuck in the train station. No where to go. What if you decide you want to go with the train after all? That you don't want to stay in the place you've chosen?" 

His teeth clenched in anger once more. She didn't know what she was saying! What ticket? What train? What station? And yet, he couldn't say anything, he couldn't fight against her. He could kill her, and she would still be smiling happily with the assurance that she knew what she was saying. 

"Do you know what you do?" she asked him, seeming to already know she was going to get no response. "You decide you want to leave, that you were wrong in your decision. You find yourself a ticket stand, and ask the person in the box for a new ticket. You want to start over from the beginning. 

"So he hands you a ticket, though it costs you a lot more money than you had expected to pay. You almost regret it, but at the same time you're grateful that you get this second chance to start over. To get back on the train. You take a look at the ticket: 

"_One-way, FUTURE_." 

Then she smiled at him once more, obviously pleased with herself. He, however, was far from pleased. He ground his teeth viciously, taking in sharp breaths, every moment hating this self-righteous woman more and more. 

It didn't surprise him much when the gun appeared in his hand, held comfortably in his grip as if it had been there the whole time. The weight of it told him that it was fully loaded. Perhaps his sub-conscious had wished it there while he was busy hating the woman, thinking he might need it. 

"You're wrong," he stated suddenly, tightening his grip around the handle of the large black gun. "I was handed no ticket at birth. I don't need a ticket, on the road I've chosen to follow." 

Ever the curious one, her eyes sent him a puzzled look, plainly asking him what road that might be. What that ticket might say. Grinning maniacally, he held the gun up, his arm steady as he aimed. 

"DEATH." 

Without hesitation, he fired. 

Knives' eyes opened slowly, cautiously. Without moving or rubbing his eyes to get them in focus, he peered about the small room. Yes, it was his room; the one his brother had placed him in to be cared for after defeating him. So, he affirmed to himself, it must have been a dream. But, what had woken him up? He was just about to watch her die, when… 

There was a slight tickling on his chin and, automatically, Knives went to scratch with a hand wrapped with bandages. However, his fingertips, which were not bandaged, met something slightly unlike skin. If Knives peered down at his nose, the offending thing was obviously red. Picking it up, he examined it. 

His eyes widened with hatred as he identified it to be a small, red petal. 

Her song immediately washed over his mind, making him cringe. That smiling face still lay heavy on his eyelids, every time he blinked. He swore as he recalled the dream with horrible familiarity, as if it had been real. 

_"The blank ticket handed to you at birth…"_ he cringed as he remembered. _"You lost your ticket, didn't you?" _

Staring at the petal, he sneered and crushed it in his hand. Like blood, it stained his palm. He watched as the color seeped into the bandages wrapped about his hand. Exactly like blood. 

"I was given no ticket…" Briefly he reminded himself of this as he closed his eyes once more. She would not win over him with her foolish metaphors. Satisfied, he fell back into an uncomfortable sleep, even as a voice in the depths of his mind spoke to him. 

_"So, buy one." _


End file.
